


Late-Night Honesty

by rosegoldroman



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: M/M, Sympathetic Deceit Sanders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-08 13:14:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18623992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosegoldroman/pseuds/rosegoldroman
Summary: Dorian still isn’t quite used to showing affection. Being accepted doesn’t mean he immediately knows how to stay accepted. But when he finds Roman awake late one night, stewing in his own insecurity, he has to at least try to help.





	Late-Night Honesty

Acceptance was a strange thing.

Dorian definitely _wasn’t_ having trouble getting used to it. It  _wasn’t_  strange to suddenly be appreciated, to suddenly be wanted. He wasn’t at _all_  put off by the fact that they listened to him now.

Oh, screw it. It was completely and utterly weird. Not necessarily in a bad way, just… in a  _weird_  way. They included him in conversations. They joked with him, laughed _with_  him, like he was part of the family instead of an evil outsider. They made sure he ate and slept and took care of himself. And they did so so… openly. So easily. Like they’d been waiting all along for him to join their little dynamic.

And it definitely  _didn’t_  feel amazing.

He paced back and forth in his room — his room, an actual  _room_ , not just a couch in the dark sides’ feeble excuse for a lair — and tried to make sense of the tangle of foreign feelings knotted in his lungs. It was late, late enough that if any of the other sides were to find him, he’d be in for a lecture, but he couldn’t bring himself to sleep. Not when his brain refused to stop cycling, cycling,  _cycling_  through all the events since he’d been redeemed, every moment of care and comfort and affection he’d been given.

He didn’t deserve it. The hesitance they’d all felt at the very beginning, when no one was quite ready to open up just yet — he could handle that. But this? They openly cared for him, and  _none_  of it was a lie. He didn’t understand.

He ran a hand through his hair with a heavy sigh. He still hadn’t gotten used to the quiet emptiness of having his own room, without Rage’s deafening snoring on the floor right beside him. In some ways, it was the most comforting thing in the world — he didn’t have to worry about rolling over in his sleep and getting punched, for example — but the silence was… strange. New. Uncomfortable.

He needed to do something. He yanked his cloak over his shoulders and stepped out into the hallway, silent as he glided down the hall. He’d become very good at sneaking around during his time with the dark sides, and old habits died hard. He peeked around every corner before he turned, shoulders hunched and ears pricked for any sort of noise.

He froze just before he stepped into the common room. The muted TV played some old Disney movie, spilling flickering bright light across the carpet and the couch and the figure sitting on it, hunched over the table and scribbling furiously.

He snuck up behind the figure, peering down at the papers scattered across the table. Some were typed, marred with red marks in Logan’s handwriting, and others were messily handwritten. “Why are you awake?” Dorian asked, and Roman yelped and flailed, toppling off the couch and onto the floor. A sword appeared in his hands and he swung it blindly.

“De — Dorian?” Roman peered up at him. “What the heckity heck, five abs and one peck are you thinking, sneaking up on me? I could’ve killed you!”

“My apologies, Roman,” Dorian said smoothly. “I  _meant_  to frighten you.”

Roman sighed. “You’re almost as bad as Virgil, D,” he said, untangling himself from the mess of blankets and climbing to his feet. “What are you doing awake, Liemoney Snakeit? It’s late.”

“It’s  _not,”_  he agreed. “What are  _you_  doing awake?”

For a split second, a grimace passed over Roman’s face, but he was quick to shove it away. “Ah, just a bit of rewriting! That second draft won’t write itself!”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “It’s three A.M.,” he pointed out. “Can you not finish your masterpiece in the morning?”

“To burn the candle at both ends is my duty as Creativity,” Roman sighed dramatically. Dorian fixed him with a dry look and he rolled his eyes. “It is!”

“Oh, it  _definitely_  is,” Dorian said, “and you’ll  _definitely_  produce your best work while sleep deprived. It’s  _not_  a good idea for you to go to bed.”

“Exactly! I — wait…” Roman shook his head. “You’re so confusing to talk to. I have to get this done —”

“In the morning,” Dorian finished for him. “You have to get it done in the morning. Sleep _isn’t_  important.”

“Ugh, you’re starting to sound like Logan.” Roman groaned, tilting his head back dramatically. “You were awake too, Slytherin. You have absolutely no room to judge!”

“I was judging you,” Dorian said gently, and then backtracked. “I mean, I  _wasn’t._  H-honestly,” he choked out. That word still gave him trouble. “We both need to sleep.”

Roman bit his lip. He looked down at the papers scattered across the table. “I… I suppose you have a point,” he said finally. “I just… I really want to get this done. I want to make it  _good_  enough.”

Oh boy. Late night honesty, the kind that required comfort that Dorian didn’t know how to give. “It is good enough,” he said as earnestly as he could. “You are good enough.”

“Sure,” Roman laughed. He stooped down and started pushing all the papers into a stack. Dorian’s eyebrows furrowed. He could always tell when someone was lying, and Roman wasn’t. He truly believed his work wasn’t good enough.

And, well, that couldn’t stand. Dorian made his way around the couch and rested his gloved hands against the sides of Roman’s face, bringing him gently back up so they were face to face. Roman raised an eyebrow. “Whaaat are you doing?” he asked slowly.

“You are good enough,” he said again, so honestly that it almost burned. “You are.”

Roman tensed. His eyes searched Dorian’s face, trying to decipher whether it was truth or a lie, and when he came to a conclusion his breath hitched in his throat. Dorian jerked like he’d been struck as Roman’s eyes began to shine, tears gathering in the corners.

“Wh — wait a minute —  **this isn’t what I wanted,”**  Dorian spluttered. His first time actually,  _honestly_  comforting someone, and he drove them to tears. How had he expected anything else?

Roman laughed wetly, tears streaming down his cheeks. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that,” he managed, his voice halting and thick. And then he did something Dorian would have never expected — he leaned into his chest and wrapped his arms around his middle, shaking.

Oh. This was happening. Dorian tensed, arms hovering around Roman but not daring to touch. He’d never been hugged before; how was he supposed to respond? What was he supposed to do?

Hesitantly, he lowered his arms until they were resting around Roman. “There, there…?” he tried. Roman laughed and Dorian felt fire race to his cheeks. Together, they sank to the couch, still in each other’s arms. With every passing second, Dorian relaxed more and more into the warmth of Roman’s touch.

“Sorry,” Roman said after a few moments had passed. “I didn’t mean to do that without asking.”

He moved to shift away and Dorian’s arms moved on their own, tightening around him.  _Obviously,_  it was just because Roman was warm. He was a snake, he needed warmth. It was the  _only_  reason. Roman gazed at him, one eyebrow gently raised, pink dusted across his cheeks.

And then he leaned back into Dorian’s arms.

The next morning, the others found them tangled together on the couch, clutching each other’s warmth like a lifeline. Neither had ever slept better.


End file.
